


i'll never get to heaven ('cause i don't know how)

by armario



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, James T. Kirk Has Issues, M/M, McCoy is a Good Friend, Self-Destructive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 20:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armario/pseuds/armario
Summary: He's pretty sure Spock wasn't going for this kind of reaction when he started applying pressure to his windpipe.





	i'll never get to heaven ('cause i don't know how)

 He pushes too far and sometimes he doesn't even know why.

 In this instance, he wanted to see Spock _hurting_. He couldn't relate to someone in that moment who wasn't feeling fear and loss like a ragged gash in their heart. So he forced it out of him, and shouldn't have been surprised when he was fighting back.

 It wasn't supposed to be like this, not in front of everyone. Spock's hand closes tightly around his throat. It's a familiar sensation, and he can't stop the first stirrings of arousal, he can't, his body is trained to react like this.

  _I'm sorry_ , he wants to convey. _For everything._ For taunting him, for humiliating him, for his own unfortunate response to the situation.

 Jim is choking now. He feels pain, blossoming out across his chest, his lungs convulsing and his face reddening.

 Truly, he doesn't think he's ever been this hard in his life. He wonders if Spock notices. He must do. But surely if he had, he would stop...

 Jim's vision starts to go dark, spots dancing at the edges of his eyes. It is now natural instinct that makes him tug weakly at Spock's hand, but he doesn't want him to stop, despite the agony. Knows he deserves it.

 " _Spock_ ," commands Sarek.

 Spock ignores him. Jim's whole body spasms, no one moves as of yet. The world blacks out.

*

 Bones felt his hands clench at his sides but knew he had to watch this play out. Part of him wanted to haul Spock away, take Jim up in his arms and lecture him about _recklessness_ and  _self destructive behaviors_.

 Another part wanted Jim to learn his lesson. He'd gone too far and he'd made Spock snap. It was a terrifying but fascinating sight to see. In the back of his mind, McCoy realized he'd never see the Vulcan in the same way. 

When Spock didn't let up, McCoy started calculating what would happen when Jim blacked out. He'd dealt with strangulation before, for varying different reasons. It was dangerous and hopefully the Vulcan was in control enough.

 He watched for the telltale signs of falling into unconsciousness. No one else dared move, but as soon as Jim's eyelids fluttered shut and his grip around Spock's wrist fell limp, Bones stepped forward to take over.

 "Enough," he demanded, injecting all the wrath and disapproval of a feared CMO.

 Spock looked at him, really _looked_ , then. His face was ashen. Bones felt a twinge of sympathy. As the Vulcan stepped away, he gathered Jim in his arms, tenderly enough because he didn't give a shit what the bridge thought, lifted him with as much dignity as he could, and didn't stick around to hear Spock relieve himself of command.

 Sick bay wasn't a huge distance away, but Jim was uncooperative and heavy. He felt his heart pounding and decided he would have to lecture Jim if it was going to make him feel so shit every time the kid got himself into trouble.

*

 Jim wakes to the bright lights of the medbay and a dull headache. He tries to sit up, too fast- the world swims and he blinks back tears.

 Quickly, the events leading up to his unconsciousness come back to him, and with it, that perverse sensation of satisfaction.

 He turns to his left, where Bones usually sits, and sees that he is being watched.

 He thinks he ought to say something, but the expression on Bones' face makes him feel so ashamed that he can't. It's like disapproval, disgust, disappointment and frustration all rolled into one. He hadn't meant to look, but now he is transfixed.  

"Don't look at me like that," the doctor mutters, standing up from his chair.

 "Like what?" Jim asks, but his voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.

  _Like you want me to hurt you_ , Bones thinks uncomfortably.

 He's seen the bruises on Jim's neck, shaped like fingertips, when he stumbles back into their quarters late at night. When Bones is supposed to be asleep but he's fretting about Jim picking fights or dying in some idiotic, thrill-seeking way.

 When Spock started to strangle him, Bones observed, clinically enough to his credit, that Jim was impossibly aroused. He knew the science of it, but that wasn't what made it so deep-seatedly unnerving. It's Jim's way, that he gets off on pain. But McCoy knows him better than anyone, that his idea of fun or catharsis is brushing with death or coming home with injuries so unnecessarily severe that he's waking McCoy up, crying, but his voice is steady when he says, "I'm sorry, Bones. I think I need stitches."

 Most of Jim's injuries are self inflicted even if he didn't make the marks himself. He winds people up on purpose just so they'll lash out. McCoy wants to shake him. S _top it. Just stop. Let me take care of you._

 But that would be stupid because Jim is too good for him, needs someone patient and kind and not so inherently bitter.

 "Did you carry me?" Jim asks amusedly, startling him out of his thoughts.

 "This isn't a joke," Bones snaps. "You nearly died."

 Jim licks his lips, sitting up carefully and paying attention, inviting him to continue.

 "I know why you did that," the doctor begins, and as soon as he starts he can't stop the tirade. "I'm not stupid. You want to be hurt. It's gonna kill you, Jim, do you understand? I can't... I can't keep watching you throw yourself into danger on purpose," he admits.

 "I have you to patch me up," Jim says. It's supposed to be funny or sweet, but it's just infuriating. He doesn't _get_ it. He's not the only one affected by this.

 "But you _won't!_ " Bones shouts. "I told you. I won't keep doing it. If you keep trying to kill yourself, _one day you will_ , and I will not be there to fix everything."

 "You can't leave," Jim pleads softly after a beat.

" _Dammit, Jim_ ," Bones counters. "Of course I won't leave. You're my life right now, you can't see that? I risk my job for you. I risk my life, I don't even know why, because you don't seem to value yours. If you died, Jim, I'm quitting. I'm fucking done. I want you to succeed and become the best Captain Starfleet has ever known, because I know you can, and I want to be there with you. But you have to want," he sighs, "to live."

 Jim is quiet. "I do want to live. It's... it's just hard, because, sometimes I need to feel... something."

 "Yeah, yeah. You don't need to come close to death to know you're alive. I can... I can help you," he realizes, pitching his voice unintentionally lower because his subconscious understands what he's offering.

 Jim's pupils dilate, predictably. Fuck, it's not even his fault. McCoy doesn't need his minor psychology degree to know what kind of things a person goes through to fuck them up like this. He wants to tell Jim he'll protect him. If he needs to be hurt, _come to me, because I can fix you after._

 "What do you mean?"

 "I'm a doctor, Jim. I know a lot more about say, endorphin induced euphoria and hypoxia, than the strangers you bring back home."

 It's weird to say it. He's basically propositioning his best friend. No, corrects his brain, you're offering him safer, medically supervised methods of _what he's already doing._

 "Wow. That's hot," Jim croaks. Bones stifles a slightly hysterical, horrified laugh, and Jim grins like everything is normal.

 Sobering, McCoy touches the bruises on his friend's neck. Jim sighs into it.

 "I think you should stay out of the way for a while," the doctor advises quietly. "Get your head screwed on straight, and we'll go back there together."

 Jim nods. His hand finds Bones', intertwining their fingers.

 He wants to say, _I appreciate everything you've ever done for me. I don't deserve you. You're my best friend. I love you._

 Instead, he says, "Thanks," but there's enough emotion in it and his voice cracks so Bones knows exactly what he means.

*  
  
 If Bones thinks about their relationship for too long, he'll start to get a headache. The word 'codependency' flashes like a neon warning sign at the back of his mind.

 He feels guilty that Jim's tolerance for alcohol almost rivals his own, because that's his fault. His fault that he let Jim see him drinking God knows what on he and Jocelyn's 'anniversary', his fault that he let Jim climb into bed with him and share the bottle. That was the first time and how many since have there been? He can't say no, really, and it's scary. _Please let up because it's terrifying to me to realize I'd do anything for you._

"I'll always have your back, Bones," Jim had said, surprisingly coherently for the amount he'd drank, and it had all gone downhill from there.

 There have been plenty of opportunities. He could have fallen into bed with Jim most nights, they could have fucked after the stress of exams or drunkenly kissed when Jim gave up looking for a girl to bring home. Or a boy, which Jim took great delight in flustering him with- this taking the form of bringing back cadets into _their quarters_. Bones had been mad about it, only partially through jealousy (or so he tried to convince himself), and when he tried to find somewhere else to sleep, Jim would find him.

 "Sorry," he'd say, sheepishly, looking happy and fucked out. What was Bones supposed to do?

 "Can't you fuck in _their_ room?" he'd mumble, trying to sound angry, but was already following Jim back. 

 And there were all the times Bones woke up listening to Jim take shaky nightmare breaths, quiet so he wouldn't wake his roommate.  
_I'm being a good friend,_ he would tell himself.

 But lying there pressed to Jim's tense back, rubbing comforting circles into his shoulders, he always had the uneasy sense he was taking advantage.

 They never fucked. They could have. So easily. But Bones wouldn't allow it, no matter how many times Jim would come onto him, whether it was just the two of them or in front of the entire fucking Academy.

 "Come on!" Jim had shouted once. He'd gotten tired of flirting and receiving nothing in return. "If you don't _like_  me, just _say_  so."

 Bones couldn't answer. Times like those make him understand how young Jim is, can be. There were too many reasons- he didn't think he could face another relationship, the fact he was a shit partner anyway, that Jim needed something else, and that McCoy would need committment. He didn't say any of that, Jim had stormed off. They pretended everything was normal the next day.

 Other than that, everything seems fine. Bones is happy to follow Jim anywhere. He'd never felt this free before. You didn't get one without the other, and McCoy feels like they are really connected in some way.

 Bones observes that Spock and Jim made up. He doesn't want to know how that conversation went.

_Sorry I embarrassed us both in front of the entire bridge because I'm stupid._

_Sorry I strangled you into unconsciousness._

_Sorry I got a boner from it._

 They're sharing quarters still because Jim insists he can't room with anyone else, but because their shifts are different, Jim comes back when he's asleep. Thus, they've not discussed anything about their conversation in the medbay, and while it's inevitably awkward, Bones is fine with ignoring... well, everything.

 He didn't lie when he said Jim could be the best Captain Starfleet has ever known. He has that potential in buckets. Christ, he's messed up, but there had to be a trade-off, and he can manage that. Bones will help him. He'll do anything.

 Maybe Jim is growing up a little, realizing the dangers of what he puts himself through. Maybe he's trying to find different coping mechanisms. Maybe he's pretending to be fine so as not to worry his best friend.

 It's settled when Jim startles him awake from his unplanned nap in medbay. All the other staff have gone to bed. He was trying to finish reports, but found his eyes were closing, and before he knew it he was lifting his head off his desk when the door buzzed.

 It's got to be Jim, no one else knows he's here. Sure enough, when he pads to the door and opens it, the aspiring captain is right there. Shifting his stance nervously, radiating a tense energy that Bones has seen all too many times. Usually, it means, _let's get drunk, let's fuck_ , or _I'm going out to do both of those things and you're welcome to join me._ He's never a hundred percent sure why.

 Tonight, he thinks he knows what it will be.

 "Sorry I woke you," Jim supplies.

 "Do you need something?" Bones asks, cutting straight to the point. This is what Jim needs.

 The younger man stares at him as though he's thinking over whether or not to come out with it.

 "Yeah," he says eventually. His eyes look dark in the shadow of the corridor. "Could you stab me without killing me?"

 So it's one of those nights.

 "I think so," Bones answers calmly, putting huge effort into not adding, _but why the hell would I?_ or _so don't give me a reason to_ or _but there's no chance of it happening_ because Jim will just do it himself. And he did offer this kind of service.

 "I'm glad you came to me," he continues instead.

 Jim smiles, a sickly sweet mix of sad and loving. Bones is going to be cleaning up his blood soon enough, and isn't that just a sombre thought?

*


End file.
